Backpacking
by o-dyseaa
Summary: It was as I stood above the trees, 183 feet from sea level with half of my bare foot off the side of the rocky mountain slope, that I decided becoming a backpacker was both the best and the worst decision I'd ever made in my life.


_The freedom and simple beauty is too good to pass up...  
_

_-_ Christopher McCandess, Into the wild.

* * *

It was as I stood above the trees, 183 feet from sea level with half of my bare foot off the side of the rocky mountain slope, that I decided becoming a backpacker was both the best and the worst decision I'd ever made in my life.

Just moments before I'd watched my brown leather ankle high timberland boot skitter off the edge of the slope with the wind as its guide. A gust blew it across a small area of gravel and caused it to tumble off the rocks. I watched with parted lips as it bounced a few times before disappearing into the wide green canopy below me. It would remain there too, lost and irretrievable since there was no way in _hell_ I was going to hike back down. I'd taken them off moments before to give my feet a much needed break from the lugs of leather that were attached to my feet all, day, everyday.

And now, my boot was_ gone_.

I held its twin loosely with my index and middle finger, letting it sway in the wind as I stared down in disbelieve. What was the point in having one boot when you didn't have the other? It was nothing. Just a heavy, expensive piece of leather, and I could take no pity on it. It was a hefty thing, size seven. A genuine make with the original blue wool laces and metal fasts. I spared no time feeling sorry for it and with a grunt, I lifted it above my head and threw it into the open greenery below me. I watched solemnly as it fell into the forest, and out of my life. I couldn't say I was going to miss it. The bruises and blisters that were scattered across the soles of my feet were confirmation enough of this. In the two years I'd spent in those boots I'd trekked across mountains and cites, made my way through forests with trees and flowers and bushes that were all unique, passed through scorching heat and storms so bad there was no way I could define them, but I could say I'd seen them, I'd survived. That was defiantly something. All the while I'd been wearing my boots. They'd bruised, battered and rubbed my feet raw. My toe nails were black and broken from being pressed against the hard front of the boot; skin from the sides of my feet had been rubbed away and the inner side of leather had been stained with my blood, giving it an awful smell when it got hot. At the same time though, I loved them. During my two years I like to think I'd taken good care of them, as they'd carried me through it. I tweaked the laces and replaced the insole countless times.

I was barefoot and alone. The year was 1988 and I had no direction in life other than the one plotted out with thin red lace on the map in my back pocket. My name is Sora Drew, in case you were wondering. My parents died when I was eight and my grandma when I was fifteen. In the wake of there deaths lead _the__ plan_. Looking back, on that Sunday night when I announced the plan to my cousin Vanitas I must have looked mad. The wind was boisterous and rain drizzled down the kitchen windows, the two of us watching it in silence as we had nothing else to do. "I'm going backpacking." I said, completely out of the blue. My voice sounded strong, showing him just how much thought I'd put into this. With a quick glance over to him, my cousin seemed thoroughly taken aback. _Your too apathetic_, he said,_ you'll never make it past day one_, he said. Oh how I wish he could see me now.

Two years one month and fifteen days. I left on May 12th 1986 around noon and it was currently June 27th 1988, almost six o'clock. Imagine how much ground I must have covered? It'd be nice to know.

I stood on the rocky mountain slope. My blue eyes attached to the lush green forest below me, watching as the tops of trees swayed in the hot summer breeze. _You can keep my boots,_ I thought as I took in a content sigh and looked down to my feet, one with a sock on, the other bare. There was a tan line on both of my legs, showing were my socks normally reached. The hair covering them was dusted with dirt and pale bruises were scattered up my calf. There were a few pale scars trailing up the sides, they stood out against my tanned skin with there light pink colour and held there own unique stories.

I turned back to my camp fire. It was already getting dark and I'd gotten everything set up before the boot incident had occurred. As I sat beside it, I lent against my backpack. It felt lighter now than it did when I was walking. I was sure how much the tent weighted, but I'm pretty sure it was more than me. The crackling fire lit up my face as I watched the bits of dust float up and disappear into the cold night air. I looked over my shoulder to the direction I would be walking tomorrow. I was heading to place called Twilight Town to pick up my next supply package. I wasn't sure were I would be going after that but there was one thing I did know.

I've got to keep pushing forward.


End file.
